


If your whole world's shakin'…

by Minxie



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Donation fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a hook-up in Jersey. And then turns into a hell of a lot more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If your whole world's shakin'…

**Author's Note:**

> **Prereader:** @aislinntlc  
>  **AN:** Thank you, @zoodlemouse, for donating to help out the relief effort in Jersey and NYC! Hope this hits the mark for you, bb!! Title is from a Bonnie Raitt song: _Love Sneakin' Up On You_.

It starts with a hook-up in Jersey. An 'I'm on the drunk side-we're a long way from home- _goddamn_ you look good' hook-up. They stumble into Tommy's hotel room and Brian blows Tommy's mind, then Tommy blows Brian. Somehow, instead of Brian creeping back to his room, they fall asleep in a tangled mess of arms and legs.

Brian's morning walk of shame isn't witnessed by anyone and it's back to business as usual with a little bit of _oh, hello_ added in.

New Jersey leads to Philly and then another gig and still another until they have their own version of a concert tradition: the soundcheck, then the show, and finally the hook-up.

Adam catches Brian's creeping the third morning out and, smirking, offers to start booking them into the same room.

Brian takes him up on the offer and Tommy finds he's good with it. Really fucking good with it.

The first night back in L.A., Tommy's splayed out on the couch with a grade-B slasher flick on the television, and he turns to tell Brian something only to figure out, _hey, look it there, I'm home and I'm alone_.

He's not impressed by it. Not at all.

But he also isn't one to go begging for attention and he figures if Brian wants to see him, Brian'll man the hell up and call. And if Brian doesn't call… well, it won't be the first time in his life that Tommy's been a little bit – or a lot – disappointed.

Brian calls. Not the first night, when Tommy's wondering just what the fuck he managed to get himself into this time and second guessing his every move, but early on day two, when Tommy's still in bed nursing a bodacious hangover.

The conversation starts with Brian's gushing full-on apology for flaking out and falling asleep the night before, because, seriously, he'd meant to call but somewhere between the unpacking and the cleaning all of the hairy stuff out of the fridge, he sat down on his couch and passed the fuck out.

Since he's in bed alone, Tommy lets a ridiculously girly smile curl the corners of his mouth and says, "It's a'right, man. Not like we made plans or some shit."

"Yeah, about that," Brian replies. "I think we should. Make some plans, I mean."

And the tight ball of _whatever_ knotting up Tommy's gut releases and he sags back into the mattress. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good."

*

Tommy and Brian become… a thing. A some-fucking-thing that means they go out to parties and shit together, they watch movies and Brian cooks (because, yeah, expecting Tommy to cook is just asking for a firsthand account of E. coli or some shit), and they fuck. A lot. On the couch, in Tommy's bed, on the counter in Brian's kitchen (and, dude, the blare of the smoke detector totally had both of them shooting off early).

A week before the South Africa gig, it all finally comes together for Tommy.

He's in coupledom. With Brian. One-half of a whole. They're getting really close to being _partners_.

And huh, wow, fuck. How the hell did that happen?

*

Three days before Adam leaves for South Africa, Tommy bangs on his door. He busses a kiss over Sauli's cheek – because to not buss a kiss over Sauli's cheek guarantees a comeuppance later – then stomps his way into the prepacking disarray that is Adam's bedroom. 

"I'm dating Brian," he blurts out.

Leather pants in one hand, a ripped tee in the other, Adam blinks. And then blinks again. "Am I the test run before you tell your mother? Because, if so, you really need a better lead-in, baby."

Tommy hasn't even thought about his mother. Closing his eyes, he groans. "Oh fuck. I still have to tell my mom."

"Okay, I missed something." Adam cants his head to the side and stares at Tommy. With a soft, "oh," he drops the clothes he's holding onto the bed. "You seriously didn't realize it? He was sneaking out of your room in D.C. What the hell did you think it was?"

"Fucking. That's all we were doing in D.C." Tommy winces. He's lying his ass off and knows it. "Adam, we're…" He flails a hand through the air, "a couple."

"Yeah, baby, you are. Isn't it great?"

Tommy huffs a sigh. Because, yeah, okay, it is great, but, _goddammit_ , Adam could be a little more sympathetic towards Tommy's absolute and utter cluelessness. Glaring, Tommy heads for the door. "You know what? Never mind. I'll go figure this shit out for myself."

He takes the stairs two at time, stopping halfway down when Adam says, "Hey, Tommy…" 

When Tommy looks at Adam over his shoulder, Adam starts singing. "Don't worry, baby. It ain't nothing new. That's just love sneakin' up on you."

Eyes narrowing into slits, Tommy shoots Adam the bird and, clomping the rest of the way down the stairs, snaps, "Oh, just… fuck you, man. Fuck. You."

He slams the door behind him, cutting off both Adam's and Sauli's laughter.

"Assholes," he mutters, doing his best to stop his lips from twitching into a smile.

*

Tommy decides to just keep on keeping on. To not think about this thing between him and Brian, what it is, how it started, or where the fuck it might end up going.

Life, he's learned, is going to happen no matter what his opinion on it is. 

Besides, if he thinks about it too hard, he's sure to fuck it up. And he damn sure doesn't want that to happen.

What he has now is as near perfect as he's thinking he'll ever get. They talk, they sit around and jam, they have the same damn tour schedule.

And the sex is bang on good. 

No reason to rock the boat with actually trying to make sense of it all.

*

Tommy manages to get himself snugged up between Terrance and Brian on the whatthefuckever hours long flight to South Africa. It's comfortable but kind of weird, being mushed between two of the three men he's actually had sex – not just a lending of a friendly hand (or mouth) but actual cock-in-ass _sex_ – with. 

Brian acts kind of territorial, keeping a hand on Tommy's thigh, cuddling him during takeoffs and landings, calling him _babe_ and _boy_. Terrance doesn't look like he quite understands it all. And Tommy is keeping his fucking mouth shut. Thirty thousand feet in the air is not the time to have a (possible, maybe, unlikely) confrontation.

He lifts the chair arm separating him and Brian and scooches in a little closer. Popping his ear buds in, he closes his eyes and sighs. If he's gotta be trapped on this tin can, he can at least be as warm and comfortable as he can manage.

*

The flight is as long as Tommy feared it would be and they can't make it to the hotel in Cape Town soon enough for his liking. He's been assed up all over Brian for a ridiculous number of hours but hasn't had one fucking kiss during that entire time. He totally isn't counting the brushes of lips against his temple or the words that Brian mouthed right into Tommy's neck when they thought no one was watching. 

Rob passes out the room keys and, from the questioning looks, it doesn't escape anyone's notice that Tommy and Brian are the only ones doubled up and that neither of them seem all too concerned about it.

Terrance slaps Tommy on the back when they get off the elevator and asks, "Wanna head out in thirty, see if we can find something to take a picture of?"

Tommy cuts a glance towards Brian and his dick twitches behind the zip of his jeans. "Nah, man. I'm gonna need more than that to wash the airplane off."

"Just call me, playa," Terrance says, heading further down the hallway. "You know my room number."

"'Bout an hou…" Tommy gets out before Brian tugs him into the room and pushes him up against the wall. 

Brian has one hand curving around Tommy's hip and the other twined in Tommy's hair and the instant his lips touch Tommy's, Tommy goes lax. Because, hell, fuck yeah, this is what he's been wanting.

The kiss goes on and on and on until Tommy's lungs are screaming and his lips are swollen and hot and his dick, his fucking dick is hard and leaking, staining the inside of his boxers with his need. Just as Tommy finds the right rhythm and pressure, hips rolling and grinding against Brian's thigh, Brian steps back and wraps a hand around Tommy's wrist, tugging him towards the bathroom.

"Where're we goin'?" 

"Shower," Brian replies. "Get rid of the airplane germs."

Tommy looks from Brian to the bed and then back to Brian again. "Think we can get hot and sweaty first?"

Brian's eyes get impossibly darker and his nostrils flare. Tommy feels like a huge ass jungle cat is hunting him. 

When Brian pounces and Tommy lands flat on his back, the mattress springing a little beneath him, he moans. 

"So pretty, boy," Brian whispers, dragging his lips over Tommy's jaw. "So pretty and _so_ mine."

Tommy would respond, he really fucking would, but his brain skittered offline the minute Brian came down on top of him, pushing him deeper into the mattress. All Tommy can do is breathe out a guttural, "Please."

*

Terrance is going to know the score the minute he walks into the room. The room smells like sex. Reeks with it, if Tommy is being in the least bit honest. And if that wasn't clue enough, there's the destroyed king-sized bed (seriously, the duvet is a puddled heap on the carpet and Tommy's pretty sure one of the pillows is fucking missing) and both Tommy and Brian are shower damp (and, fuck, the bar in the shower is the perfect height for Tommy to hold on to while Brian spreads Tommy's ass cheeks and fucks him with three fingers while he whispers straight up nasty shit in Tommy's ear)… Yeah, it all points to one thing.

The _instant_ Terrance walks in, he's gonna be able to put two and two together and come up with Brian is fucking Tommy through the floor.

Tommy can't be assed enough to care. He's feeling too good – stretched out and limber, sore in all the right places – to give a shit about much right now.

A fast three-beat knock echoes around the room. Tommy looks at Brian and says, "You gonna get that?"

Snorting, Brian heads to the door. "Fucked out is a good look for you."

It's work, but Tommy finds the wherewithal to give him the finger.

Like Tommy expected, Terrance takes two steps into the room and, arching a brow, drawls, "Damn, son. Someone's been moving on the downlow."

Tommy doesn't think he's ever blushed so hard in his entire life. Not even that one time his sister walked in on him whacking off.

*

While they're kicked back and lounging in Hong Kong, Tommy does the one thing he said – _promised_ – he wasn't going to do. Except, now, after spending so many days with Brian – twenty-four/seven kind of days, days making out under a South African night, doing shit like going on a mini-safari and lounging by the pool – after their days together, Tommy really needs to know. "What the hell are we doing?"

The look Brian gives him basically says that Tommy is being an idiot. Brian scoots over in his chair and pats the space next to him. "Put that damn phone down and get your ass over here, boy." 

A thrill races up Tommy's spine. This is why Brian is so different than any of the others – male or female. There's no question about who is control.

It's also why Tommy needs an answer to his question. 

Dropping his phone on the low table between them, Tommy eases down into the space Brian carved out for him. 

With one hand scratching along Tommy's scalp, Brian asks, "What do _you_ think we're doing?"

Tommy relaxes into Brian's touch, his eyes close and his breathing levels out to a slow and steady cadence. Shrugging one shoulder, he says, "I don't know, not for sure. I know what it seems like, but, man, we're away from home and all the shit that touring is and…" 

Running out of words, Tommy shakes his head and sighs. 

"You're not a piece of tour fun, Tommy Joe." Brian's breath ghosts over Tommy's ear. "If that's all it was, I'd have left it on the East coast." Brian huffs a short laugh. "It never even crossed my mind _to_ leave it on the East coast."

"Yeah, me neither," Tommy says, rolling his eyes.

With a finger beneath Tommy's chin, Brian tilts Tommy's head back. When he's looking into Tommy's eyes, he asks, "So, we're good?"

Tommy gives him a crooked grin. "We're good."

Brian leans in and brushes his lips over Tommy's, chaste and gentle. It's more of a statement, an affirmation of this thing building between them, than any kind of intent to arouse, to go any further.

It's Adam, the one true romantic among them, who breaks the mood. Plopping down in the chair Tommy abandoned, he hums a few bars and then breaks into a quiet song. "You just can't fight it when a thing's meant to be. So come on let's finish what you started with me. Don't worry baby, it ain't nothin' new. That's just love sneakin' up on you."

Laughing, Brian pulls far enough away from Tommy to say, "Fuck off, Lambert." Then, because they're all a bunch of dorks, Brian winks at Tommy and joins Adam in the final verse of the song.

"If your whole world's shakin' and you feel like I do. That's just love sneakin' up on you…"

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥


End file.
